


Tug of War

by scarletsptember



Category: Prison Break, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2011-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletsptember/pseuds/scarletsptember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael did almost everything by himself in order to plan freeing his brother, with the exception of the help of a few people. He learned far more than he ever expected when he met Sam Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tug of War

**Author's Note:**

> AU for Supernatural backstory (last time I checked the boys didn't rob banks and serve prison time beside that one episode), preseries- Prison Break, slash, artistic liberties taken
> 
> I thoroughly enjoyed watching Season 1 of Prison Break in two days and as a result this is watch my brain cooked up. I hope it turned out alright :) And that someone else out there enjoys it.

The bar wasn’t the greatest of places for this to be happening. Not with it’s lacquered bar tops, or its soft leather seats that were well cared for and definitely not the wooden floors that didn’t have a dent in them to account for a rougher clientele. The location already had Sam jumpy. He didn’t do well with bright lights or fancy places. He didn’t do well where people sneered at him because of the way he was dressed. There wasn’t a need to hide beneath a suit just because you had money. It didn’t matter if you chose to wear jeans, boots, a jacket and a scarf to hide from the cold. Everyone was still the same underneath it all, working their ass off and all for nothing.

“Winchester,” The voice was soft and spoken right into his ear. It wasn’t a question but a fact and Sam turned to meet vivid eyes, a suit and a pair of ear muffs. “This is a private sort of business. I would rather head to a more quite location if you wouldn’t mind.”

“How about a walk?” Sam suggested. “It’s hard to know who to trust beneath the fancy lights and the designer suits.”

“A simple man,” Michael commented as he held the door open for Sam to lead the way to wherever their destination was.

“With a concise mind,” Sam concluded before he glanced at the structural engineer out the corner of his eyes, “Which makes me wonder, why would someone like a structural engineer want to do something so outrageous as what I do?”

“We’re not so different, Sam.” Michael looked over at Sam as they walked. “You were in Stanford before you dropped out and disappeared off the radar of every potential employer and your friends. The only people who knew where you are were your brother and a few select others. Who are not the nicest people I’ve had to deal with in order to find you.”

“You’ve done your homework.” Sam commented. “Just because you know a few small things about who I am doesn’t mean I’m willing to put everything on the line to help you.”

“I believe you will,” Michael retorted.

“What makes you think so?” Sam asked with a cocked brow.

“Because my brother is all I have left.” Scofield was already digging into his pocket as Sam was about to answer. He pressed a card into Sam’s hand as he spoke, “Think it over. If you decide that you want to help me, be at that address at seven pm tomorrow night and burn that card. If not, burn the card anyway.”

“Can’t afford to leave any trace of what you’re going to be doing?” Sam questioned as he pocketed the card.

“It would be reckless. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you at seven, Sam.”

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Scofield.” Sam watched at the black trenchcoat walked away and he let out a sigh. Without a thought he knew he would be at Michael Scofield’s apartment tomorrow night doing whatever he could to help the man. The moment word got out that Michael Scofield was looking for his help, Sam spent most of his nights researching the man. He knew his grade school records, his high school love interests and how many times the man changed his major in college.

He also knew that Michael Scofield was the younger brother of Lincoln Burrows. The same Lincoln Burrows who killed the Vice President’s brother. He doubted that the department of corrections knew that the one visitor that continuously visited Mr. Burrows was his brother who would do whatever it took to save his brother.

~*~

Sam stood outside of Scofield’s apartment with his hands shoved deep in his pockets still debating on whether or not he should knock on the beige colored door before him or if he should turn tail and run. On one hand he understood everything Michael was going through. Relying on one person for most of your life was something Sam understood. Having that bond broken so quickly, without any warning was like a knife to the gut. It was a quick stab of pain and then it lingered and pulsed until you died. But why Scofield was still lingering on what his brother did, it bothered him. Why he wanted help to not only rob a bank, but to sabotage the heist without harming anyone was like asking for a million dollars to drop out of the sky. It wasn’t possible. Something could always go wrong.

The door popped open and Scofield leaned against the door frame in a pair of sweat pants, a white undershirt and bare feet, “Are you going to ask to come in or are you going to keep thinking until you decide to leave?”

“Tell me everything before I help you with this,” Sam asked and he watched the pink of Michael’s tongue peek out to wet his lips and a subtle nod of his head before Sam was stepping into the world of Fox River Prison and Michael’s tattoos.

Sam immediately stepped over to the wall of tacked up blueprints and post-it notes. He got lost in how methodical, how planned out everything was. He reached up to trace the lines, the newspaper clippings as he scanned over the work that was put into this.

“The evidence all pointed to him for the murder,” Michael’s voice startled Sam but Michael continued to talk as though he hadn’t noticed it. “But there is a trail of cover-ups as far as anyone can see. So many people who could have testified were not allowed to do so. People are starting to disappear, or die that can be used to exonerate my brother. If his lawyers can’t get a stay of execution then I will do whatever it takes to get him out of there before his date of death.”

“Why a bank robbery?” Sam asked as his eyes continued to devour the information on the walls. “And why me?”

“A bank robbery, with a firearm that has been discharged during the event, will get the convict time in a maximum security prison if they show no remorse.”

“Even on a first offense?” Sam questioned knowing that Michael Scofield hadn’t committed any crimes in his life and with a college degree, and a career attached to his name it may be taken as a psychological break.

Michael met Sam’s eyes and his lips curled upwards, “Even on a first offense.”

“There are two other facilities they could send you two other than Fox River. You do realize this right? It’s not set in stone that they’ll send you there.” Sam commented.

“The numbers from overcrowding rates say I’ll be sent to Fox River.”

“If you do go through with this,” Sam ran his fingers through his hair and let out a sigh, “I hope you’re right Michael.”

“I will be.”

“How do you know I won’t let the cat out the bag?”

“Your own brother is in prison serving his last three months,” Michael answered, “You know what it’s like being without the only person you have left.”

“I’m sensing there’s more to why you picked me out of all the criminals in Chicago.”

“You’re the only one who has been able to disappear, and you’re the only one who knows how it works. Inside and out.”

Sam took another look at the wall before glancing at Michael and sucking in a deep breath, “Okay let’s do this.”

~*~

They went over what Michael wanted to do and how he wanted it done. No one was to get hurt but he needed to bring a gun in order to be able to see the inside of a prison cell. Sam had to worry about the dangerous stuff while Michael worried about the timing and the numbers. They picked a bank that would have less foot traffic around ten in the morning. Michael would be processed through by the evening and have his sentencing by the next day.

They ran potential problems. Take one gun and there would be less of a chance a bystander would try to play the hero. Take two guns, the better the chance Michael would get into Fox River but someone could over power him. It was all a game of numbers. How much money Michael would need to take in order to appear to have the right amount of greed instead of desperation.

It took three nights of Sam stopping by but they had everything ironed out to Michael’s specifications by the time Sam left the third night. Sam had barely wrapped his scarf around his neck before he turned around and stared at Michael. He watched the play of light over the ink along his muscles as the man starred at the blueprints on the wall and Sam shook his head. He wished like hell that Michael wouldn’t do this; that he would think twice because the man had a lot to offer the world.

“Thank you Sam,” Michael whispered right before Sam left, “It might not seem like what you’re doing is right but thank you for what you’re doing.”

Sam nodded and headed out of the apartment and towards the elevator wondering if he would ever see Michael Scofield again. If he did, would it be in person or would it be a picture splashed across the television screen with a news reporter talking about another unsuccessful bank robbery.

He stalked down the sidewalks with a sour taste in his mouth. He was already regretting what he had done. Scofield didn’t understand what he was going to be walking into. He might want to save his brother but his brother did what he did to save him. Why waste that gift? Sam rubbed a gloved hand over his lips and blinked the snow from his eyes. Rage flooded his veins. Without a thought he slammed a fist into the wall and let out an animal like cry before cradling the hand to his chest.

Numbers, percentages, and plans be damned. Michael Scofield was just another fish in the prison yard, waiting to be hooked into and it was going to be his fault. Sam stomped the snow off his boots the way up the stairs to his house and unlocked the door before heading straight for the shower. He needed warmth, something to make the fear and the guilt of what Michael would go through disappear from his conscience.

A loud rap against the glass of the door had Sam padding through the hallways in a pair of sweat pants at a jog. When he opened the wooden door, he was surprised to see Michael standing on the other side of the glass shivering and waiting for Sam. Sam unlocked the outer glass door and moved so Michael could pass through.

“I don’t want to know how you found out where I live.” Sam closed and locked both doors before heading towards the warmest room in the house.

“I did my homework, Sam.” Michael answered with a body wracking shiver, “Same as you did.”

“It’s been a whole hour since I left. We couldn’t have forgotten to go over something.” Sam stood clueless as what to do as they stared at each other from across his living room while Michael shed his coat.

“You didn’t forget anything, Sam.” Michael reassured him. “You were upset as you were leaving.”

“So you followed me across town?”

“It was the best idea that I had,” Michael’s cheeks flushed as he looked down at the ground before he looked back up. “You have a tattoo.”

“Hope that’s not too surprising seeing as you’re covered in them,” Sam smirked as he moved to grab the sweater hanging over the recliner but cool fingertips on his back stopped the motion. He could feel Michael tracing the lines over his shoulder and across his flesh. Sam bit into his lip and tried to control his breathing.

“The work,” Michael’s breath was warm against Sam’s skin as he spoke, “It’s beautiful, even if each letter was placed to cover a scar.”

“You aren’t supposed to be able to see those.” Sam whispered as Michael pressed soft lips to the ink.

“That’s what makes it even more beautiful.” Sam could feel Michael’s eye lashes close against his skin as he pressed his body closer. “From the beginning, to the end, love never wavers. There’s a romantic inside of you, Sam Winchester.”

“In a sense,” Sam answered as he leaned back against the warmth Michael was offering. Within seconds Michael had turned Sam around to look Sam in the eye, his hands moving to cup Sam’s face, his thumbs rubbing soft circles just below Sam’s ears.

“Tell me,” Michael asked with soft eyes. “Tell me why you find those words so important that they are going to be with you for eternity.”

“No matter where or no matter how long we’re apart he’s still my family.” Sam tilted his head down to rest his forehead against Michael’s. Michael reached up and tugged Sam’s lips down to his, soft and searching before Sam gave in. Sam lost the thin grip of control he had and he let go. The needy sounds coming from the back of Michael’s throat spurred him on. Breaths being shared, quick nips from teeth to be soothed and kissed better.

Sam stared into dilated pupils surrounded by a sliver of blue. With his chest pressing against Michael’s and every breath they shared, Sam fingers slid against the downy hairs at the nape of his neck and he couldn’t help but voice the words that had been plaguing him since they started working on this elaborate plan to save Lincoln Burrows, to ruin Michael’s life in the process. “You don’t have to do this Michael. There’s got to be some other way we can get to him.”

Sam didn’t expect the burst of air from his lungs as he was slammed against the wall and the back of his skull bounced against the plaster. Michael’s voice and body shook with desperation, “There is no other way, Sam. I can’t let them take him away from me.”

“Then you need more than what you have planned for getting in to prison,” Sam whispered out ignoring the red blush that was painted across Michael’s neck and down his unmarked skin. “They’ll eat you alive in there. I can’t let you do this knowing I could have done something more.”

“Then show me,” Michael took a deep breath and stepped back before Sam rubbed a hand over his lips. “Teach me what I need to know.”

~*~

Sam bounced on his feet, his breathing was heavy. Sweat trickled down trickled down from his face and pooled at the hollow of his neck as he watched Michael scramble to his feet once again. “You have to do better than this. Find what you can use as a viable weapon, even if it’s yourself and beat the ever loving hell out of me. Otherwise when you’re in the yard and you say the wrong thing, or you look at someone the wrong way you’ll get your teeth kicked in.”

Michael cocked his head to the side and considered Sam for a moment, as if he were calculating the taller man before he nodded his confirmation on what was being said and he took a deep breath, “I won’t have a weapon though. Most inmates won’t trust me until I do something to prove myself.”

“And that won’t be the easiest thing to do.” Sam shrugged and he rolled his shoulders once for good measure already not liking the way Michael was looking at him. “Again.”

As soon as the command was out of his mouth, Sam regretted speaking with Michael as long as he had. The time had allowed Michael enough time to figure out how to over power him, how to use his weight and height against Sam. Talking, the perfect distraction.

Sam lay on the mat looking up at Michael and he grinned, “You’re getting better at this.”

Michael allowed for a lazy curl of the corner of his lips before he held out a hand to help Sam back up, “I have a great teacher. I could have gone to anyone but no one would have taught me what you are teaching me.”

“What you’re not saying is that no one else has the prison experience that I do.” Sam snorted as he moved to grab a towel to dry his face and he tossed one over to Michael to do the same. Sam pursed his lips before he looked down at his watch, “How much longer do we have?”

Michael sighed and moved into Sam’s space, the heat of his body pressing in against Sam’s. Their skin slipping against each other’s as Michael mouthed his way up Sam’s neck to stop right at the corner of Sam’s lips, “Focus on now, not the details.”

Sam jerked Michael down against the mat and hovered over him, eyes sparking with want, need, and hope that something would change in Michael’s plans before his lips crashed to the other man’s. His fingers curled around Michael’s ears, taking full control of where the kiss was going as he bite and soothed his way through the kiss.

A knee settled between Michael’s he let out a wild moan when Michael bucked his hips beneath his, creating a friction so delicious he didn’t want it to stop. Sam wanted to find a way into delirium. Bodies pressing and rubbing together, lips tasting and mapping out exposed skin until the world bleed into a blend of blacks and whites.

~*~

Sam tapped his fingers against Michael’s desk, staring up at the blue prints that were slowly being torn down. He wasn’t supposed to notice, but he did. He knew which parts of the prison were disappearing: the infirmary, the psychiatric ward. Both had disappeared over night. Michael was ready to move and he wasn’t going to say anything about it. He was slowly stripping away the evidence, hoping Sam wouldn’t take notice.

“I would ask how you got in but that would be pointless,” Michael murmured as he strode through his apartment and tossed his keys on the desk next to Sam’s tapping fingers. “So I’ll ask you why you’re here instead of on your way to pick up your brother for his release instead.”

“I had a feeling as soon as I left you would do something stupid,” Sam watched Michael move about the apartment gathering plates and setting equal portions on each of them before he served them up. “So I needed to reassure myself that you wouldn’t.”

“And breaking in to my apartment would do that for you?”

“It should have,” Sam whispered to himself but he plastered on a smile and nodded towards Michael. “Yeah, it did.”

“They’ll be gone when I decide to do this,” Michael gestured towards the blueprints, “Everything will be gone Sam. Even anything that had to do with you.”

“Make sure it stays that way,” Sam murmured before he stood up and pressed a lingering kiss to Michael’s forehead. The tips of his fingers running against the short strands of hair that he’d never be able to feel again. He swallowed down the sting of tears, the ache that was building in his chest from what Michael was going to do.

“I have a job I have to do. Be here when I get back Michael.” Sam asked as he walked towards the door and the silence that echoed around him when he left was the answer he knew he’d get. Michael wasn’t going to be there. This was it.

 

~*~

“Sam,” Dean yelled loud enough to grab his brother’s attention from the bathroom of their latest motel room. “You have to come see this. Apparently there’s a new trend going on around here. This week the bank we hit wasn’t the only bank that was robbed this week.”

“What?” Sam slipped out of the bathroom patting his face dry with a towel. He tossed the towel over his shoulder at stared at the television screen not believing what he was seeing. That face, one that he had tried so hard to convince not to do this. Sam sat down hard on the edge of the bed and watched as the face of Michael Scofield plastered against the news screen followed by the words armed robbery. Sam let his face drop between his hands and he looked up at his brother. “How much is he getting sent to prison over?”

“Probably not much,” Dean shrugged as he dug into his noodles and gave an obnoxious slurp. “They don’t give that info out. You know that.”

“Yeah, but it’s me and you, Dean. We hit the bank four blocks down for two point four million and we’re still walking the same streets talking to ex-cons. I’m not asking cause I want to hit that bank next or because I’m lining up our next job. I’m asking because you know how much money he tried taking and how that equates to prison time.”

Dean rolled his lips together and stared at Sam, “If it’s over a mill with the armed discharge like I’m thinking he did, he’ll be in a max security system for a few years. You’ve never worried about time before. What’s important about this Michael Scofield guy? You know him or something?”

“Or something,” Sam whispered as he starred down at his hands and he tossed the towel back towards the bathroom. He stretched out across the bed and stared up at the gaudy ceiling of the motel room wondering what Michael was staring up at. Sam could still feel the weight of Michael’s gaze, the intensity of his thoughts, the heat of his touch and his kiss. Michael Scofield, a structural inmate, a man of passion and now an inmate of Fox River prison. One of those descriptors didn’t fit. Sam already saw the brand new blue prints forming in his mind.


End file.
